


Dynasty

by mocking_words



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Domestic Violence, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Mafia AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 20:47:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18858811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mocking_words/pseuds/mocking_words
Summary: We could establish a dynasty that would last a thousand years.A mafia AU set in 1950s New York.





	Dynasty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soupmetaphors](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soupmetaphors/gifts).



> This chapter is Lannister-centric. For now, its a one-shot, but future chapters could include the Starks, Tyrells etc. Hope you like it x

**CERSEI I**

**MANHATTAN, NEW YORK, 1953**

The blaring jazz music emanating from the house was loud enough to give a deaf man a headache, she mused as she lifted a glass of red wine off the waiter’s tray. Cersei smiled politely, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes, as one of Robert’s many business associates came to give her a peck on the cheek and comment for the hundredth time how lovely their home was. There was nothing quite like playing the role of a pliant wife to the Baratheon mafia lord; she thanked them for their kind words as they grinned and moved past her in the crowded hallway to mingle among the others.

It was pitiful.

She was a lioness, not a trained dog to come and go as her master pleased; and yet, she did it all the same. The party was underwhelming at best, where it was meant to be a grand celebration; in her eyes, nothing her husband did would be enough to please her. After sealing a deal with the Mad King, he had come home and declared immediately that they would be celebrating until the sun broke the horizon. Cersei held nary an interest in the Baratheon family affairs, she was first and foremost a Lannister. Being called Mrs Baratheon only left her wanting to strangle the offender. Eight years and two children later, it still left a bitter taste in her mouth when she thought about how she’d been sold like a broodmare to be ridden as and when her master pleased. After the war, her father had convinced Jon Arryn, Robert’s now long gone consigliere, that a Lannister-Baratheon alliance would do nothing but aid in their quest to bring New York to its knees.

He had been right, her father; as he’d always been.

The Lannisters would be nothing without him. He’d risen the family name through the ranks; from nothing but lowly associates to being one of the most powerful and feared families running organised crime in New York. They said a man like him only appeared once every thousand years; Cersei knew there was much she could learn from him. If only he’d let her into the family business.

Drinks flowed freely throughout the evening and she stepped around several people who were too drunk for her to be comfortable around. She had half a mind to down the bottle of Montoya Cabernet sitting prettily in the cabinet to get through the evening but that would not do.

_Lannisters don’t act like fools._

If there was anything the Baratheons were good at; it seemed that drinking might’ve been their forte. The hundreds of caskets of wine being delivered to their doorstep hardly sufficed the number of guests Robert had invited. She tipped back her glass and emptied it before passing it off to one of the many staffs working the evening. It wasn’t until a little later in the evening did her family decide to make their appearance; leave it to them to make their grand entrance. Her mother, Joanna, embraced her as soon as she saw her. Joanna was the embodiment of their family’s colours with her scarlet evening gown and golden locks pinned into a tasteful chignon.

“Darling, it’s so wonderful to see you,” Joanna said, giving her a kiss on the cheek, “It’s quite a party you’ve got going on.”

She smiled half-heartedly, “It was Robert’s idea. Hello, father.”

Tywin nodded his acknowledgement, hands behind his back as he was immediately ushered off by a group of men who looked like they wanted nothing more than to be in his presence. “Don’t mind your father. You know how he gets at these things,” Joanna said, “Now, where are my two lovely grandchildren?”

“They’re with the nanny upstairs. I didn’t want them running amok among these people,” Cersei replied with a hint of scorn in her tone. “Alright, I’ll be off to look for them then.”

The one person she had been looking forward to seeing all evening had not made an appearance yet, “Where’s Jaime?”

“He’s out in the garden with Tyrion.”

She spotted her twin and younger brother through the large, open French doors and excused herself. The gardens were brightly lit, fairy lights hanging brightly over the manicured lawn. The warm, setting hue of the sun enveloped the place into a perfect setting for the evening; if only she could spend it elsewhere. It was much quieter outside; the loud music was barely audible by the time she made her way to the corner of the gardens where her brothers sat. Jaime caught her attention first, as he always had. He stood up when he saw her, a bright smile on his face. She returned the gesture and he immediately pulled her into an embrace, “Cersei.”

The dark suit he was wearing enhanced the flecks of gold in his green eyes that were very much like hers’. He looked as handsome, if not even more, as when she’d last seen him. It had only been two days prior, but it had felt like a century. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered in her ear as he pulled away, his hand warm on the small of her back. She nodded subtly. Of course, they had always been this way; exchanging looks and lingering touches that nobody would question. At least, until they were behind closed doors.

It would suffice, for now.

She acknowledged their younger brother, who had been sitting opposite Jaime before she had interrupted, “Enjoying the party?”

Tyrion simply nodded, a grin on his face that suggested he was fairly tipsy as he raised the glass of red wine clasped in his right hand, “I’m most definitely enjoying the wine. There is nothing quite like a good bottle of Cabernet to keep the mood going, after all. Tell me, how do the Baratheons get such fine wine?”

 _My husband is a raging alcoholic who often drinks himself to a stupor_ , she wanted to say. But, Cersei held her tongue; they weren’t the only ones around.

“Maybe if you asked father to open up a winery, you could keep at it,” Jaime commented, amused as he downed his own drink. There was little Jaime took seriously, except her.

“Ah, now _that_ , my dear brother, sounds like a wonderful investment. The Lannisters should open up a winery in the south of France and I’ll live out the rest of my days there, bathing in the warm southern sun and living as a happy, drunken dwarf.”

“You’re only encouraging him to drink himself into an early grave,” Cersei replied, raising an eyebrow at the entire premise. She tolerated Tyrion, if not only because they shared a common last name. Family comes first, that had been the lesson Tywin had imparted upon them.

“Now, now, Cersei, there’s no need to be so morbid. Drinking is but a way to release pent up tension. No different from doing drugs, although I’d say the mortality rate is _much_ lower,” Tyrion grinned, taking another gulp of his wine, “Why are you all standing up? Sit down.”

Jaime’s arm was thrown across the back of her seat and while it may have looked like nothing to anyone else; it left her longing to be in his arms, where she belonged. But those were thoughts for later; when everyone else had gone.

“How have you been dear sister? Living it up with my brother-in-law?” Tyrion asked and she almost blanched at the idea, “I heard from mother that he’s going to Italy over the weekend.”

“My husband is free to do as he pleases,” she replied, changing the subject almost immediately. Robert was leaving no doubt to visit one of his many mistresses. It would take an idiot bigger than her cousin Lancel to not know he slept around. “What of you? Still hanging around with your whores?”

Tyrion laughed, “If only. My whores have missed me but Jaime here is keeping me busy with business. Seems to me we’re going to be under another tyrant.”

“Mixing business with pleasure has never done anyone any good,” her twin chastised. Tyrion snorted, “You’re starting to sound a lot like father.”

Jaime would be the heir to the Lannister family when the time comes; he had been groomed for it all his life much to Cersei’s disappointment. Jaime had no interest in leading and yet she was being scorned for lacking the cock. Even being the eldest of Tywin’s children didn’t cut her any favours. Cersei scarcely saw Jaime anymore, which made things all the worse. Between New York and everywhere else in the world, he was more often than not in Las Vegas, running their family’s chain of casinos.

“By the way, where are my beloved niece and nephew?” Tyrion asked. Cersei tugged at the hem of her dress, “Likely with mother upstairs. I didn’t want them to be around these people.”

“Always playing the role of the lioness protecting her cubs. Your one redeeming feature is the love you have for your children, that, and your cheekbones. Bring them home this weekend, won’t you? I promised Myrcella I’d bring them out to the lake. Jaime, when are you going to give me more nephews and nieces to play with?”

Her twin simply scoffed at the notion, “Haven’t you got enough on your hands already? There’s a saying, what was it again? Two’s company and three’s a crowd?”

“You can never have too many Lannisters,” Tyrion laughed, “At least that is what Father likes to say. A contingency plan in my mind, I’d wager.”

Jaime shook his head, although he was looking fairly amused, “That is a terrible way to describe children.”

“It is, but you know how our father is like, don’t you? A mean old man with a tendency to always be right.”

* * *

It was half-past eleven when Cersei finally put the children to sleep. Joffrey had been adamant that he would stay up until everyone had gone for the night and naturally, Myrcella wanted nothing but the same. Because if her elder brother could stay up, why couldn’t she?

The children were as willful and stubborn as herself. But she could tell that Myrcella had all her looks with Jaime’s personality. The braver and more confident between the two, she was truly her father’s daughter. Cersei had perhaps indulged Joffrey’s every whim for too long, but a mother could only love her children and Joffrey was her first-born son. Her little lion cub. There was no love in the world which could replace that bond.

After the last of the staff had left after cleaning up, she sat down in the living room; staring at the burning embers in the hearth and listening to the quiet crackle of the flames. The silence was welcomed after hours of loud conversation and yelling as the men and women gambled the night away right in the house. Cersei had never thought of the house she’d shared with her husband as a home. There had been a time once, where she’d admired Robert for all that he was. Strong and lean, a headstrong man ready to take New York by the horns. Perhaps some part of her had _wanted_ it to work, all those years ago; that was until he’d crawled into her bed during their wedding night, did what he could as drunk as a lord and passed out on top of her calling her _Lyanna_.

It became clear to her that he loved the corpse of Ned Stark’s sister more than he did her, and she put away the childish fantasies of loving her husband and making it _work_. She didn’t need him, she had Jaime. Her beautiful and courageous brother who would do _anything_ to please her. He was her other half, a reflection of her; they had shared a womb together.

“As your brother, it is my duty to tell you that you worry too much. It’s starting to show.”

She turned, startled as she saw her twin leaning against the doorway, a smug smile on his face.

“Jaime. You’re still here.”

“I haven’t been alone with you in days, I wouldn’t have left if the sky were to fall down upon us,” he said as he sat down next to her and took hold of her hand.

“My husband-”

“Relax, the fat fuck has gone off with his idiots and Ned Stark to a bar or something downtown,” he said soothingly and it quelled her worries instantly. He slid one arm around her waist, pulling her close to him and kissed her deeply, “I really did miss you.”

Cersei cupped his cheek gently, rubbing her thumb against his skin as she whispered, “I did too. I wanted nothing more than to be alone with you.”

“Are the children asleep?” He asked, his lips tracing a ghost of a kiss down her neck. “Yes,” she breathed, her fingers tangled in his golden hair and tugging him closer. She wanted to feel nothing but him. If there truly was a home, Jaime had always been the one.

* * *

As they laid in her bed together, his arm thrown across her and holding her close; she felt _safe._  Jaime was her knight in shining armour and he would lay his life down for her if she asked him to. “Jaime, you love me, don’t you?” She asked her whisper a contrast against the dim silence of the room. He murmured a _yes_ against her neck as he pulled her closer and left kisses along her breast. He was careful never to leave any marks on her, lest her oaf of a husband grew suspicious; but she knew he would’ve marked every inch of her if she’d let him be. She, on the other hand, had clawed his skin raw as he’d skilfully drawn every moan and scream from her. He knew her body like the back of his hand and he’d once told her, there was no time he felt more alive than in a fight and in bed.

He pinned her down and kissed his way down her body, leaving her writhing in his grasp. It wasn’t until he gripped her too hard that she gasped. Jaime pulled away and she almost hit him in frustration. His gaze grew hard and he clenched his jaw, “I didn’t leave that on you.”

She was momentarily pulled from the hazy aftermath and she could quite literally see the gears turning in his head, “What?”

“This,” he gestured towards the sizeable ugly mess of purple and green on her waist that she’d somehow forgotten in the throes of their passion. The bruise had been a gift from her husband, although she had no plans to tell Jaime the truth. Her twin was brash and already despised Robert enough as it was, the last thing the Lannisters needed was a murder case attached to Jaime’s name, especially Robert’s. “I didn’t even notice, I must’ve run into something,” she lied, smoothly.

He kept quiet for a moment and if she hadn’t known him any better, she would’ve thought that he’d believed her. Jaime wasn’t just angry, he was _seething_.

“Did that bastard do this to you?” He asked, his voice eerily calm, “Don’t lie to me.”

She kept quiet, not quite looking him in the eye as she sat up and swallowed her words. How could he be any angrier than she? He was not the one that lived with Robert, nor was he the one who had to endure his actions. It was only yesterday that he’d hurled a wine bottle next to her head after she’d asked him why on earth he had bothered coming back after he’d returned at six in the morning, reeking of alcohol and women’s perfume. She could care less that he was out whoring the night away, as long as the children didn’t know. As far as she was concerned, as long as Robert upheld the image of a passable father, he could do whatever it was he pleased.

“I’m going to kill him!”

There was little that Jaime was serious about, but she had never seen him look quite this determined, “Jaime, stop. You can’t.”

“He hit you and you didn’t say a word about it to me. Fucking hell, you were even trying to hide it from me,” he seethed as he got up. Pulling on his pants, he picked up the holster he always wore. “Jaime, you can’t kill him,” she repeated, numbly, “Please. You said you love me, didn’t you? You wouldn’t do anything that would hurt us, or the children, would you?”

He seemed to consider it for a moment, but she knew he was not quite convinced as he turned to cup her face gently. “Then get a divorce,” he said, his voice pleading, “Tomorrow morning, tell that son of a bitch that you’re getting the marriage annulled for abuse.”

She reeled back from his words, “What are you saying? How could you ask of something so selfish?”

Their father would hear of no such thing. Tywin didn’t care what Robert did with her as long as they kept it behind closed doors. And she was a lioness, not some meagre child waiting for someone to save her. She might’ve started out as a pawn on her father’s board but now she was the queen and she would not let anyone, including Jaime, derail her plans now. Not when she’d already suffered for so long. If she were to be rid of Robert now, there was no guarantee that Joffrey would have a claim to the Baratheon family. There was still the issue of Robert’s brothers, Renly and Stannis. But, for the sake of Joffrey and Myrcella, she would endure it. For now.

He paused and kissed her hair gently, pulling her to his chest, “Joffrey will take over me, I’ll make sure of that. You could finally come home, Cersei. You could come home to _me._ ”

Of course, she wanted that. She wanted nothing more than to share their life again. He was her soulmate; she was not whole without him. “One day, I’ll get rid of him,” she whispered into his ear, pulling him as close as physically possible, “I will pay him back tenfold of whatever he has done to me, to us. And then, we will be together again, I promise.”

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, muttering promises of retribution and pain in between kisses. She would not forget those who have wronged her. She was a Lannister, and a Lannister always pays their debts.


End file.
